


go astray with me

by india_valentina



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Crying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/india_valentina/pseuds/india_valentina
Summary: Simon is spending Christmas alone at Watford, now that Agatha's broken up with him. Baz feels bad about it, and not-so-accidentally invites Simon to spend the holidays at the Grimm-Pitch household. Arguing and fighting ensues, but a desire to maybe even become friends also underscores much of their time together. And maybe something more...





	1. What more do I have to lose?

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this is my first fic!!! Pls leave any comments below I'm always wanting to improve my writing etc etc!

**Baz**

 

Simon Snow is staying in Watford over Christmas. Alone.

He doesn’t offer up an explanation, but then I don’t ask. I know the reason anyway. Snow usually goes to the Wellbeloves’, but it seems he got disinvited this year - he and his perfect girlfriend aren’t exactly on good terms anymore. I’m well aware of the part I played in that. I feel kind of bad about it - I try to tell myself,  _ well, you never thought you’d actually  _ succeed  _ in driving a wedge between them _ , but the excuse doesn’t land because I don’t feel any better about it. 

I’m all packed, two weeks’ worth of clothes and books and more books neatly stored in one medium sized suitcase. I’m about halfway out the door of our room when something forces me to turn around and give Snow one last look. He’s sitting up, perched on the end of his bed, staring at his beat up Adidas Stan Smiths and wringing his hands together. He looks a bit dead inside (I’m one to talk). 

He notices that I’ve stopped, and he gives me one long, miserable look before going back to staring at the abominations on his feet. 

“Merry Christmas, Baz,” he practically whispers. 

“So, you’re staying here then?” I practically blurt out. I think I sneer at him. I don’t mean to.

“Yeah.”

“What are you… I mean, there’s nothing to do. No one to see.” 

“Yeah.” There’s a long pause where neither of us says anything, but Snow eventually continues, “there’s Ebb. And the Mage… and Cook Pritchard might still be here for a while…” but his heart’s not in it and he trails off. 

“Snow -” 

“You should probably go now, Baz.”

 

**Simon**

 

He’s going to mock me. I should have just left it at one-word answers. He always knows how to take the piss out of anything I say, both for its content and delivery. I brace myself for the onslaught of snide laughter, but I cut him off.  _ Just go _ , I plead.  _ Please _ .

I look at him then. He’s not moved from his position in the doorframe. He’s still watching me, and I’m not gonna lie, it still unnerves me when he does that. If looks could kill, and all that. 

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t say anything either.

What am I meant to do with that? 

I want to push him out the door, slam it behind him and scream. 

Instead, I practically choke out, “why would you do that?”

God. How pathetic. 

He can add that to his tally of Times He’s Made Simon Snow Cry.

His eyes go sort of wide. “Snow I’m…” For a second I think he’s going to apologise. But of course why would he? “...I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything. You don’t normally, so why start now? I’ll see you in the New Year.” Hopefully that does it. Hopefully he leaves.

He’s always been that bit more stubborn than me.

“Not sure what to do with yourself without your perfect girlfriend, are you?”

“What the  _ fuck _ , Baz.” I feel my magic push to the surface, threatening to spill over and mimic the anger written all over me.

He seems to backtrack a little, but it looks like it takes effort. “Maybe it will be nice for you, to try something else out for a change… for Christmas, I mean. Yeah.” 

If “ _??? _ ” could be an actual human expression, I am definitely wearing it right now.

“Why would you take away the one good thing I had. The one normal thing. The one thing that made me feel… I don’t know. Like I had a family.” I whisper it. God. I’m sounding more pathetic by the minute.

“You can’t rely on the Wellbeloves forever, Snow-” 

“She was my future you utter wanker! And now I’ve got no one!” 

“You-” 

“Baz”, I cut him off, “I have no family. I have no friends. I’m alone for Christmas. Isn’t that enough for you?” 

I brace myself for one last snarky comment.

“Crowley, Snow. Come to mine. For Christmas.” 

 

**Baz**

 

_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck _ . Who in the name of Merlin just possessed my body like that and made those words come out of me? 

I try to ignore the voice in my head that laughs at me, but I can’t. I said it. I did. It’s out there now. Why is Snow taking so long to process it? Can he just throw a rock at me and leave it at that? I’m too proud to run away even though that’s what my body is screaming at me to do. 

Can he say something? I don’t know. Maybe I should just run. Who cares. But before I can make a decision, Snow musters up a groundbreaking, revolutionary, profound, “ _ what _ ?”

“I mean… there’s room.”  _ Shut up you absolute tosser.  _ There’s room? Who even says that?

Simon narrows his eyes at me, a signature glare. “Is this another one of your plots?”

“For Crowley’s sake, Snow, why does everything always have to be a plot with you?”

“I don’t know,  _ Baz _ , enlighten me.” 

“You’re the one that accuses me of them!” 

“You’re the one that always plots against me!”

“Look, this isn’t going to go anywhere. Are you coming or not?” 

“No.” My heart sinks.

“Okay then.” 

We both just remain, watching each other. Snow is still on the bed. I’m still half way through the door. It’s getting pretty annoying propping it up with my body weight, so I step back into our room and let it swing shut behind me.

“Uh, aren’t you leaving?” Snow asks, incredulous. I open his wardrobe and begin spelling some of his things into his one small suitcase. He doesn’t own very much stuff at all. “What in the name of… Baz, stop!” 

“Look, Snow. Just come with me. I don’t like this any more than you do.” 

“You invited me!” 

“I feel sorry for you.” 

“I don’t want to come to your pity party for me, thanks.”

“Why are you making this so difficult?” 

He rolls his eyes and grabs my wand from my grip. I wasn’t expecting that at all, so I let him. His hot hand brushes against my cold, dead one. 

Did the tension in the room just amp up or am I imagining things?

 

**Simon**

 

“I’ll pack,” I whisper. I tentatively hand Baz’s wand back to him, and begin folding up some of my things. 

Baz just watches me.

I’m done pretty quickly. 

And then all my neuroses hit me at once and I sway a little. “God,” I mutter, and I flop back down on my bed. “Stupid.” 

“Are you coming?”, Baz asks carefully.

“I don’t know!” I shout. He looks a little taken aback at that. Good. “How am I to know you’re not… I don’t know… stringing me along? That you’re not going to drive us halfway to God knows where, and then tell me to get out the car, or bus, or however the fuck you get to your house, and abandon me on some road near London with no way back to Watford or anywhere, really?” I’ve run out of breath. “How do I know this isn’t all some big joke?”

“It’s not a joke. I don’t think you should be alone at Christmas.” He sounds sincere.

“I just don’t understand why you care.” 

He visibly schools his expression into something neutral. “Why are you so worried about this?”

I ignore the question from his mouth, from his eyes, from his whole face. I look away. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. Look, we can forget all about this. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I don’t understand why-” 

“BECAUSE YOU HATE ME, BAZ.” I shout - like, an actual, proper, full-on shout. I feel my magic surge up dangerously.

He approaches me slowly, holding out a hand as if to calm me down. “Simon-” 

“You hate me.” 

“I don’t.”

I start to cry.

 

**Baz**

 

Simon Snow is crying - no, sobbing - and I have no bloody idea what to do. My heart goes out for him, of course it does. You know, contrary to popular opinion, I don’t  _ like _ seeing him upset. It just makes things a bit easier. That bit of distance we have, I mean. I guess I just don’t know how to show empathy in a physical way, in a way that seems sincere and friendly. So it’s awkward when I hold out my hand and pat him softly on the back. It’s even more awkward when he jerks away. 

“Sorry,” I murmur. He looks up at me then, all puffy eyes and red cheeks and curls matted to his forehead. Merlin, he’s a mess. 

“I get it, Baz… You took Agatha from me so I would be trapped here over Christmas and now you finally have me cornered. You finally have me broken, insecure and unattached enough to get me to follow you around like a lost puppy. A lost puppy you only plan to break more once you get me away from Watford, away from anything that’s safe.” 

“You’ve got it all wrong-” Oh my God. He really thinks I’m evil, doesn’t he? It’s not fair. I know I’m a monster. It just hurts when people reinforce it. “I’m not evil…” I am though. I am.

“Maybe,” he’s fidgeting even more intensely. “I don’t know.” Silence. “I get that…. I understand that people are more generous around this time of year. I do. Even you, I suppose. But - you show me one thing. You fight me, you get between me and Agatha, you work me up so I’ll go off, you humiliate me. But then… but then you ask me over for Christmas. You seem to  _ care _ . And you… and you call me Simon.” 

“Merlin and Morgana, I just want to make things right.” 

“Right?” 

“Between us. You and me. Fix this. You know?”

“But you’re a Pitch. And I’m… well I’m…” 

“The Chosen One?”

“Whatever you want to call it.” 

“Let’s try and not care about the war for once.”

“It’s all you’ve ever seemed to care about.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could explain.”

“Explain it then.”

“Not now.” _ Not ever _ .

“Fine.” 

 

**Simon**

 

“I’m sick of fighting fights that aren’t my own. I’m sick of pretending I hate you… when I don’t. Not at all.” Baz says. BAZ is saying this. Baz! I feel like I’m in some kind of dream. But I want this. I want to stop fighting, too.

“I know I’ve not been the best roommate either…” I start. “I want us to get along too.” 

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still think I’m evil?”

“I don’t know.” 

“I guess that’s fair enough.” He attempts a small smile. I try to return it, but it must look more like grimace because his own falters. 

“Are we going then?” I ask.

“Wait, you’re coming? Really?”

“What more do I have to lose?” 


	2. perfumed with obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz agree to spend Christmas together, and begin their journey to Hampshire. They talk about some personal stuff, connect over music and... argue. This is Simon and Baz, after all.

**Baz**

 

This is fine. I’m fine. Except that I am totally not bloody fine and probably never will be again. 

Simon Snow is coming to my childhood home. To stay. He’s going to meet my family. Can I back out of this, actually? He’s already expecting it from me so I’m sure he’d get over the hurt eventually. 

One look in his stupid, glassy, wet eyes is enough to stall that line of thought completely. I am  _ not _ backing down from this.

I lead Snow out into the small parking lot adjacent to the school, casting a quick spell (“ _ come out, come out, wherever you are _ ”), revealing my car where a second ago there was nothing. He’s stopped a few meters behind me, and when I whip around to demand he catch up, his mouth is hanging open. 

“Stop exaggerating, Snow.”

“You have a  _ car _ ?”

“You knew I had a car! You implied it when you… well, when you asked…” 

“If you were going to dump me somewhere along the way.”

“Yeah. That.”

“I kind of thought your parents would be picking us up.”

“Well, surprise. I can drive.”

“It’s a fucking Mercedes. Of course.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having  _ taste _ , Snow.”

“You can drive!”

I try really, really hard to suppress an eye roll but Simon Snow makes it so  _ bloody _ difficult. “Yes, I think we established that earlier on in this riveting conversation.” 

“I don’t understand-”

“Ah yes. Riveting, Snow. It means interesting. Fascinating. You know, all the things this conversation most definitely is not.” 

“That’s not what I -”, he stomps his foot lightly and sighs, while running his hands through his hair. “S’not what I meant”, he finishes, quieter. 

Oh God. I recognise the horrendous feeling climbing up my spine to be  _ guilt _ . Is he serious right now? He can’t take a bit of teasing? But then I guess he’s a little fragile as of late...

“Snow I-” 

He has the fucking  _ audacity _ to smirk at me. Me! No wonder he finds me so nightmarish. I just want to kiss it off him. I mean thump. Yeah, I definitely meant thump. “I was only playin’ with ya, Basil,” he says, his Lancashire accent lilting slightly more than usual. He makes to move past me over to the passenger side of the car, but not before shoving his hand up in my hair and  _ ruffling _ it. 

“What the fuck.”

His eyes go wide. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch would say the word  _ fuck _ .”

“Yeah, and I’ve also said the word Simon. Twice, now. What a day.”

 

**Simon**

 

After unceremoniously shoving our suitcases in the massive boot, I have to make the tough decision of where I’m going to sit. Is it too much to sit in the passenger seat, right next to him? Wouldn’t sitting in the back make this feel like he was my fucking Uber driver or something? Actually, I could deal with that. Baz. Serving  _ me _ . Heh.

“Are you getting in?” Too late. Baz has opened the passenger side door for me. I get in right at the exact same time he does, and we both close our doors at the same time too. Someone please enlighten me - why has our synchronicity got me blushing? I bet Baz would be impressed that I know the word synchronicity.  _ Shut up, brain _ .

“So, back to where we left off.” 

“What are you talking about  _ now _ , Snow,” Baz sighs, slowly reversing out of his parking spot and switching on his indicators.  _ There’s no one here, Baz _ . Tosser.

“This  _ car _ ,” I exclaim, gesturing wildly at the dashboard in front of us. “How the fuck do you know how to drive?” 

“Firstly, take your feet off the dashboard. Did no one ever tell you not to do that?” I roll my eyes. “Secondly, I know how to drive a car because I took lessons and tests like everyone else. It’s not rocket science.”

I ignore the jab and press on. “Yeah, but it’s pretty early to be driving, I don’t know, this comfortably.” 

“My parents bought me lessons for my seventeenth birthday. I started literally as early as possible. I’d already started practicing with my dad in supermarket parking lots before that, too.” 

“Oh. I guess that’s kind of cool. I’ve never really thought about driving.” 

“You don’t really think period.”

“Ha bloody ha, Baz.” He smiles at me. “I’m getting way too many smiles out of you today. It’s weird.”

“There’s nothing weird about people smiling.”

“No, there’s something weird about  _ you _ smiling.”

“Fine. I won’t do it anymore.” 

“I never said I wanted you to stop!” I jerk my head around to look out the window, trying to work out if I would die if I jumped out of a vehicle moving at this speed. 

 

**Baz**

 

The silence stretches on forever. I honestly don’t know what I could have said that would have made Snow feel any less awkward. And I’m glad he’s ardently looking out the window, because he can’t see the blush that crept up my neck and has bloody stayed there for the last ten minutes. I’ve resigned myself to passing the rest of this three hour journey in silence, but Snow goes and pipes up. Not scared of facing any situation head-on, is he?

“Got any music?”

“Huh?” 

“M-U-S-I-C. Music. Got any? None of that classical stuff, though.” 

“I think you’ll find that classical stuff-” 

“Oh, leave it out Baz. I don’t need a lecture in Buch right now.”

“ _ What did you say? _ ” I yell, swerving the car a little. Thank god we’re still in the countryside, or I probably would have smacked right into someone else. He looks at me all confused. Fuck this. “It’s  _ Bach _ , you absolute swine.” 

“Okay.”

“ _ Okay _ ? That’s all you have to say? I can’t believe you. If I could be bothered, I’d stop this car right now and ask you to-” 

“Get out and abandon me with no way back to Watford?”

“Too soon, Snow.” 

He fiddles with some buttons on the dashboard, and eventually finds what he’s looking for. “What have you been listenin’ to recently, Basilton?” he drawls, “let’s see.” The sound of Lorde fills the car. “Not too shabby.”

“I’m glad you approve.” 

“Didn’t think you needed my approval for anything.”

“I don’t.”

“Great.” He cranks up the volume, just as Lorde sings, “ _ Will you sway with me, go astray with me _ ?”

Hopefully Snow’s not listening too closely. Half the reason I love this album so much is because it reminds me of him.

We go two songs just listening to the album in silence before Snow breaks it, yet again. I don’t think I mind, and then he asks the worst question ever.

“So, you got a girlfriend then?”

That gets a side-eye from me. And a bloody intense one at that. “No.”

“' _ Our days and nights are perfumed with obsession _ ’” he quotes. Damn, he’s listening closer than I thought. “Sounds pretty relationship-y to me.”

“That’s not a word.” 

“You’re changing the subject.”

I sigh and check my speed. I’d been accelerating a bit for a moment there. “I’m not.”

“Not changing the subject or not in a relationship?”

“Both.”

“Well, this song-”

“You can listen to songs about being in a relationship without being in a relationship, you know. Just like you can listen to songs where people go on about being rich without actually being rich. You’d know a whole lot about that.”

“Burn.” 

I smirk. “You set yourself up for that one.” 

“Nah, I think you’re just a wanker.” 

“Maybe,” I murmur. 

“I don’t know… this just seems a bit, well.  _ Soft _ . For you. Thought you liked all that emotionless classical stuff.” 

“Classical music is some of the most emotional ‘stuff’ in the world, thank you very much.” 

“So the vampire has a heart after all.” 

I go silent at that. Yeah, I’m guilting him. I don’t care. It’s a touchy subject.

 

**Simon**

 

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s fine.” 

“Well, it’s clearly not.”

“I just said it is.” 

“I’ve touched a nerve. I can tell. And I’m sorry.” 

I don’t know that he’s actually a vampire. I mean, obviously I have my suspicions, and I feel like I’m only a couple of catacomb stalks away from discovering him. But I don’t have any actual proof, that’s true. But he’s reacted pretty badly to the insinuation. I wish he would just sneer at me, so we can go back to being Simon and Baz, enemies extraordinaire. Instead of this fragile… I don’t know what. I can’t do anything right. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? It’s almost a relief when he does finally sneer at me.

“Oh, you can  _ tell _ I’m pissed off at you? Well done. Your emotional intelligence is top notch as usual,” he hisses.

“Baz-”

“Snow.” He says it like he’s putting an end to the conversation, and I let him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so my only qualm about carry on is that baz could drive!!! Now hear me out… we don’t have the same thing in England where people start learning to drive at like 15 or whatever… we can’t even start learning until we’re 17! And then it’s unlikely baz would have been able to get lessons, take the practical and theory test, and still be comfortable to drive on motorways etc like he did at that age. Also… dude lives in London most the time, which has excellent transport links and literally no one drives (for context, I know 1 person that drives who’s below the age of 21). He also stays in hampshire, which is directly connected to London by train… the UK is obsessed with trains, they are really huge here etc etc less so in the USA but yeah i kind of tried to correct that and at least let Simon be shook that Baz can drive sooo yeah that’s why that’s there if anyone was wondering! Ok i’ll stfu now


	3. supercut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon doesn't know when or how to stfu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this is the last chapter before they both stfu and get to bloody hampshire

**Simon**

 

Well, I let him end the conversation for about a total of five minutes, because then Lorde’s  _ Supercut _ comes on, and I can’t get over that Baz listens to this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s bloody good. But, Baz? Really?

“Are you  _ sure _ you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Quite sure,” he snaps.

A thought suddenly occurs to me. A horrible one, but one I feel I have to ask all the same. “Do you think about Agatha when you listen to this?” Baz looks like he’s having some kind of aneurysm. “Um, Baz? You okay? Do you need to pull over?”

“ _ No _ .”

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, but he ends up pulling over anyway. We’ve stopped next to a mossy green bank, and apparently we’re about one hour away from Hampshire. He leans his head against the steering wheel, and groans loudly. He mutters something I can’t quite catch.

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m sorry about you and Agatha. I thought I’d feel smug but I actually feel kind of shitty about it.” 

“Is that why you’re not going out with her?”

“I never planned to go out with her in the first place.”

“Oh.”

“I kind of just wanted to get back at you.” 

“The usual, then. God, you are such a prick.”

“Yeah.” He fidgets a bit with the cuffs of his grey button-down shirt.

“That wasn’t nice, Baz,” I whisper. 

“I know,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry.” And I think I believe him.

 

**Baz**

 

Simon Snow has got me apologising to him. Bloody hell, I didn’t  _ make _ her break up with him. She did that of her own free will. However I know this is the right thing to do, even if it does make me cringe inside.

“Thanks,” he says. Thank god, we’re back at normal volume now.

“For what?”

“Apologising.”

“Urgh, can we please not make this any more awkward than it has to be.”

“Sure.” A pause. Then, “I still don’t get why you did it. You’ve one-upped me in every other aspect of… well, life, I suppose. Why couldn’t you let me have this one thing?” 

That does it. “Merlin and Morgana, Snow, I didn’t exactly force her to break up with you.” That shuts him up. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. I didn’t. If she really wanted to be with you, she wouldn’t have broken up with you. It’s just like that. Sorry.”  _ Stop saying sorry you prat, you’re behaving like Snow. _

“Say sorry one more time,” he teases. Silence. Can he take anything seriously? For once? Please? Hello? He folds his arms and sighs. “I guess it’s easier to blame you than to blame myself.”

“Blame yourself?”

“Yeah. For being a bad boyfriend.”

“I don’t think you were a bad boyfriend.”  _ Shut up _ .

“How would you know? I wasn’t  _ your _ boyfriend.” That’s got us both clearing our throats and looking away from each other. Wow. I knew this car journey would be awkward, but I thought it would be full of awkward silences and not horrendous chat.

“I know that much, thank you, Snow.” I clear my throat once more for good measure. “Well, it didn’t seem you two were very happy. Together, I mean.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m your roommate, I notice things. You were arguing pretty much all the time. You got jealous easily. It’s not healthy.”

“Okay-”

“ _ Vaut mieux être seul que mal accompagné _ .”

“I don’t speak Frog. You know that.”

“It just means that it’s better to be alone than in bad company.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. You probably should have left me at Watford.” 

That gets a massive eye-roll from me. “Quit the dramatics, Simon.” I wince when I realise I just accidentally called him Simon out loud again. “I just think - you know. She wasn’t happy. You were only convincing yourself that you were happy when deep down you knew you weren’t.”

“Bloody hell, Baz, you’re really dishing out the relationship advice today, aren’t you?” he snaps. “Anyway, I don’t see why you think you know so much about me. This is the most we’ve talked outside of you taking the piss out of me in elocution in something like seven years.”

“You started this conversation. I did try to end it.” 

“Well, then. End it,” he challenges. I ignore him.

“You like fighting.” 

“So do you.” 

“Not really.” I insist.

“Yes, you do.”

“Telling you my observations about your relationship and trying to give you a little bit of advice isn’t  _ fighting _ . You’re just defensive.”

“Well, how would  _ you _ know anything about relationships? You don’t even have a girlfriend! Unless of course, you do, and you’re lying to me. Then maybe your so-called advice could count as valid.” 

“Snow, I’m warning you-”

“So Baz, for the last time.  _ Do you have a girlfriend?” _

“No. No, Snow, I do not have a  _ significant other _ .” He gives me a look then. I couldn’t tell you what it bloody well means because I’ve never seen it on him before. “Anyway,” I continue, “I better get this car moving again.” 

I pull out onto the narrow country road. He’s still watching me. 

“You okay?” I ask, but what I really mean is:  _ stop whatever it is you think you’re doing right this instant.  _ I hope that comes across.

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t let up. 

I’m going to crash this fucking car if he keeps looking at me like that. Maybe I should say something to annoy him.

He beats me to the chase.

“You called me Simon, before. Again, I mean.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he’s smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SHOOK that ppl are actually reading this and leaving kudos i love y'all sm you have all my uwus  
> comments appreciated as usual etc etc  
> <3


	4. consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they finally arrive in Hampshire but obviously disaster follows these boys everywhere so it's not exactly plain sailing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack, some blood

**Baz**

 

I pull into the long driveway, slowing down to a stop right in front of the first of three garages. I then have a massive internal panic, because Snow fell asleep about half an hour ago, and I don’t know how best to proceed. I mean, he can’t be in a deep sleep - but still. The thought of touching him to shake him awake makes me feel all weird inside, because we’ve never really touched each other outside of fighting.  _ God, shut up and get on with it _ , my brain tells me.  _ Get over yourself _ . 

I turn to face him. He’s cocooned against the passenger door, head lolling against the car window. I’ve seen him asleep so many times. But there’s something different about him being asleep here, in my car, on the lawn of my childhood home. 

I realise my hand is heading straight for his curls two seconds too late. They are  _ so  _ soft, exactly how I’d imagined them to be. I retract my hand almost immediately, but it’s not soon enough. Snow’s eyes fly open, and before his dilated pupils even have time to go back to their normal size, he’s on me.

That’s exactly what it sounds like. 

He moves onto the driver’s seat, squashing me up against my own door, before grabbing me by the back of my neck and slamming my face into the steering wheel.  _ Crunch _ . Damn. That’s going to hurt.

“Crowley, Snow,” I yelp. My eyes are watering and I can barely see out of them, but when I turn my face to look at him, I’m met with the sharp end of a sword. 

“Baz-” 

“Get that thing out of my face!”

“I can’t do that.” He’s glaring at me.

I try to push him off me, but the effort sends my head spinning and I feel like I’ll pass out right there and then. “Just - let go. Please.”

“What were you trying to do?” he demands.

“Trying to wake you up, now get off - Merlin, Snow, can’t you see I’m bleeding?” The tears stinging my eyes begin to feel pathetic. I’ve dealt with worse pain than this. But this whole situation is so claustrophobic, and I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe. “Can’t - breathe,” I gasp.

His grip finally loosens where it’s gripping my neck, and he uses his other hand to finally sheathe his fucking sword. He seems to become aware of where he is, and slides off my seat, finally allowing me some space. I wipe my arm against my face, and it comes away bloody - from my nose or mouth or somewhere else, I have no idea. All I know is that I need to get out of this fucking car so I can properly breathe again. 

I practically fall out onto the ground in my attempt to leave, since my legs are completely unsteady and a sharp pain shoots behind my eyes. I’m still breathing too quickly, too shallowly and I can’t fucking see. 

“No no no no no no no,” I mutter hoarsely. My mouth has completely dried up and I’m so so so thirsty. For blood, or water, I don’t know.

 

**Simon**

 

Baz always says that I jump into things too quickly without thinking about the consequences. 

His hands were so fucking  _ cold _ . 

His eyes were so wide, and his mouth was hanging open. You can’t blame me for jumping to conclusions.

I thought he was going to bite me.

My neck was right there - completely exposed. Christ, I can’t believe I’d been so vulnerable with him so close, alone. He could have ended me, and I wouldn’t have been able to do  _ anything _ . 

I thought he was going to kill me.

Maybe he was. But maybe I should have checked first.

I leave him for two minutes, watching him stumble to a large oak tree before falling to his knees in front of it and rolling over. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and I can tell his breathing is laboured. I make my way towards him, not too quietly as I don’t want to startle him. 

“Hey,” I whisper. “Hey hey, hey.” I place one of my hands on his shoulder, the other behind his back and pull him up into a sitting position. “You’ll choke on your blood if you lie there like that.” 

“What do you care?” he snarks.

Thank God, Baz is still in there.

His breathing is still erratic though, so I hold on to one of his knees and slowly whisper “breathe in, one, two three, breathe out…” 

I don’t know how many times I repeat it. Enough to make him slow down, at least. His body is still trembling slightly, and he’s now got his head in his hands but he’s definitely calmed down.

“Baz,” I whisper, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

I reach into my backpack and grab the packet of wet wipes I keep there. When you’re the so-called Chosen One, they’re always useful to have. You never know when things are going to get messy.

I grab a single wipe and begin cleaning Baz’s face up a bit. He doesn’t even try to fight me, although I’m sure if he was feeling stronger he would have decked me by now. His mouth is set in a firm line, and he’s refusing to look at me. When I’m done, I place both my hands on his face, moving it around to check I haven’t forgotten anything. 

“Fuck Baz, I’m so sorry.” 

“I didn’t invite you over just so we could apologise to each other all week,” he snaps.

It’s true. We have been apologising to each other  _ a lot _ . It’s weird. But also nice. 

“Fuck - okay. Baz. I just - what were you trying to do?” I ask.

“I told you, I was waking you up. Look, we’re here,” he gestures wildly at the massive estate in front of us, “I thought -  _ fuck _ .” His nose is bleeding again.

I try to pass him some Kleenex tissues but he just swats my hands away and takes his own bloody embroidered handkerchief out his jacket pocket. Of course. 

“Got a mean swing on you, I suppose,” he mutters.

“I’m not going to make it easy.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You want to off me, well I’m not going to make it that easy. It was - well, it was stupid of me to leave myself exposed like that. With you.” 

“Snow, use your words. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“I felt you, Baz. Your hand, on my head - I saw your mouth, open - you were going to bite me.” I subconsciously rub the spot on my neck where he would have done it.

He stares at me for a long moment, and then laughs bitterly. “Not your stupid vampire fantasies again.” He gets up and pushes past me, but sways a little on the gravel driveway.

“Baz!” I call, and jog to catch up with him. I put an arm around him, trying to support his weight.

“Get. Off. Me. Now.” He punctuates each word with a hiss. I do as I’m told.

“This was such a bad fucking idea.” I groan. “I shouldn’t have come.” 

Baz doesn’t say anything for a while, but he’s opened his car door and he’s gesturing me over. “Snow, come look at this.” 

“What is it?” I ask, panic rising in my chest.

“Just take a look.” 

I look inside the car. “I don’t see anything.”

“Beige seats.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Beige seats. Why on Earth would I bite you, drain you right here in the front seat, when I would make a mess of these gorgeous beige seats? Who do you take me for?”

 

**Baz**

 

He looks at me in complete disbelief. But then, I think I’m in a state of shock too. It took so much willpower not to just kiss him on the spot while he was cleaning me up. God, imagine if I’d done it. I’d probably have a broken nose, and not just a fractured one.

He begins to giggle then. Like, a full on giggle. It’s music to my ears - I could never play something that beautiful on my violin. I want to record it and - 

“You’re the worst,” he laughs.

“At least I didn’t smash your face into a steering wheel.”

“God. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop-”

“No, seriously. I mean it. I shouldn’t have done it. I - I know you’re not really a vampire.” We can both feel the lie a mile off. I let him wallow in it. “Er - I’ll grab the cases out the back.”

“It’s fine. I can just spell them into our rooms.”

“Waste of magic.”

“That’s not how it works.” 

“Whatever.” He grabs both our cases anyway, and begins walking towards the main estate. 

Finally outside the front door, I fumble around in my satchel, and my hands finally fasten around a fistful of heavy keys. “This one,” I mumble to myself, placing it in the lock.

“Pretty weird no one heard the… scuffle, outside.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“What would you call it?”

“A brutal attack.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m still bleeding!” 

Snow at least has the decency to look sheepish at that. “Didn’t realise how hard I hit you till I’d done it.” 

“Like we’ve already discussed, your thinking skills are subpar.” I open the door and let us into the sprawling foyer inside.

“I’ll take back my apology if you keep on at me like that.”

This feels way too close to flirting to be comfortable, so I ignore him. “No one’s here.” 

“What?” he looks startled. “You mean - it’s just us?”

“No one’s here  _ yet _ ,” I correct. “They’re all at my sister’s tennis match.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I was driving us here.” I tap my foot impatiently.

“Fair point.”

“God, Snow. You make it really easy to take the piss out of you.” 

“Sorry! I’m just trying to make conversation.” 

I roll my eyes. Again. It’s Snow, I can’t help it. “Do you mind if we just go straight to our rooms? I want to clean myself up a bit before my father gets back.” 

“Oh, um, yeah. Sure.” 

He follows me up the curved staircase and across the second floor landing. I can feel his eyes on my back, and I could swear my neck has began to sweat. How embarrassing.

“Here’s your room. Everything you need should be in there, but if it’s not, tough luck. I’ll come find you when it’s time for dinner. Wear something nice.”

“Where’s your room?”

“No where you need to be.” 

I softly push him into his room, and slam the door behind him. 


End file.
